7. Dragon's Teeth
"You had to look," said the Doctor, shaking his head. "Why do you always have to look?"
Seven, immersed in an astrometrics scan, glared over her shoulder at him. He continued to hover by the doors, his chin propped up on one hand, scrutinizing her.
"I am Borg," she snapped. "I assimilate information. I reanimated Gedrin from stasis in order to question him. How was I to my action would initiate such a … cascade reaction?"
The nine-hundred-year-old Gedrin and his compatriots, the Vaadwaur, had proven to be a deceptive ally. Hoping for assistance dealing with this ancient race's subspace corridors (a promising shortcut to Earth), Voyager had instead started a war between the Vaudwaar and their old enemies the Turé. They'd barely gotten away and the Captain, while understanding Seven's motives, had nonetheless levelled a Janeway glare at her and warned her about the consequences of her actions. Still irritated, Seven had retreated to Astrometrics. The Doctor's comments in addition to this were the last thing she wanted.
Turning around to meet his eyes as he had taught her, she immediately regretted her sharp tone. He was smiling; not much, but it was there.
"You were curious," he said. "Ever heard the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"
"I have no time for hackneyed metaphors, Doctor. I am scanning."
The screen zoomed in on a certain uninhabited M-class planet. She scrolled further, pointedly ignoring it. This was the world she had picked out for the Vaadwaur to build their new colony on, believing that she was helping to rebuild a civilization of peaceful merchants and scientists. Gedrin had spoken to her kindly, telling her about his late wife. The memory stung; even if the Vaadwaur did find that world now, no doubt they would use it as a base for conquest.
"You're disappointed, aren't you?" said the Doctor suddenly.
She nodded.
"Everyone is. No subspace coridors to use … no new ally … no chance to do good. Instead, we stirred up a regular wasps' nest and got away by the skin of our teeth. Oh, excuse me." He smirked. "Are my metaphors annoying you?"
"Yes," she said, making his smirk wider. "But I have come to realize that it would be useless to attempt to dissuade you of the habit."
"That's my favorite Borg."
She raised her cybernetic eyebrow. "You have not addressed me by that term since Stardate 52134.2. The day of One's conception."
That was a year ago now. She had wondered if he had stopped using the phrase because he'd come to value One more than her, but had suppressed those thoughts as petty and irrelevant. She would not be jealous of the innocent individual who was the closest thing she'd ever had to a son.
The Doctor's hazel eyes were gentle as he regarded her. "I thought you could use a bit of … cheering up. That's one of the purposes of nicknames, you know. If you don't like it, I'll stop."
"No," she said automatically. "No, I … have no objection."
"Speaking of One … actually, I've been thinking of him as well. Today is his birthday, isn't it? Well … if you can call it that."
So he remembered as well. She had known from the moment her regeneration cycle had ended that morning, that there was something bittersweet about today. She had remembered One – how eager he would have been to learn from the Vaadwaur. He would have certainly beaten her to those stasis pods if he had been there. Their betrayal would have confused him, and she and the Doctor would have made an effort to explain. Not that they weren't confused themselves. Parenting, or so she had heard, made one sharply aware of one's own limitations. Even when the role of parent lasted for no more than a day.
Captain Janeway's intuition regarding One, that he would make a fine addition to the crew, had proven right on the mark. So how could they have been so wrong this time?
"Anniversaries," said Seven stiffly, feeling embarrassed by the wave of nostalgia catching up to her, "Are irrelevant. I do not understand the Human custom of recalling a particular event each time their planet rotates around its star."
"My favorite Borg," he said again, and this time there was more than amusement in his voice – something affectionate. "You're not fooling me a particle."
He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed as she picked it up.
It was a white candle in a silver holder, complete with a book of matches.
"You can light that in his alcove. How about it?"
Seven thought of a tiny light flickering in the alcove next to hers, where a newborn being had stood for one night. She'd had to tell him to regenerate three times before the restless young man would comply. He had thanked her then, for nothing in particular; for the mere fact that her nanoprobes and the Doctor's mobile emitter had accidentally brought him to life.
"Very well," she said, and placed the candle on the console next to her.
The Doctor came up close to her and touched her shoulder. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to kiss her on the cheek, as she had done for him to make one of his daydreams come true. But he withdrew, and before she could remember to even thank him for the candle, the room was empty.